Nevermore
by BrokenKeyBlade
Summary: Sora's worst fears come to life when his name is plucked from the Reaping Bowl. But entering the Hunger Games isn't as bad as it seems, if he can ignore the fact that he's probably going to die. In there he learns more about himself and, in an odd way, a little more about friendship and sacrifice. Let the Sixteenth Annual Hunger Games begin. T for gore, Sora/Riku friendship
1. The Reaping

**Okay, so, I started working on the new chapter of Magic of Friendship and then I got sidetracked... I finished The Hunger Games for the third time today(I'm one of the fans that read the book years ago!), and wanted to write the Kingdom Hearts version of it. And the other crossovers don't really seem like it's a "Kingdom Hearts characters are in the Hunger Games, and original characters never really existed". So, I guess I'll tackle that :) So, it's set in the early years of the games, as you will discover. Also, I will state this now, I wanted to use more female Kingdom Hearts characters... But there aren't a lot... So... deal with it? ... You know I love you. Enjoy, and if you're a Kingdom Hearts fan but not a Hunger Games one, no worries, and vice versa. **

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My mother doesn't like talking about the war much. She had been relatively young back then, when the first whispers of the revolt had been shared around the boat yard. My father was a few years older, but that's pretty much the sum of what I know of him. Mother doesn't like to talk about him either. She doesn't like talking about anything anymore, really. Anything about the past is painful.

All that I know about the Dark Days, that only ended fifteen years ago, is what they tell us in school. The districts rebelled against the Capitol, and the districts lost, leaving nothing but heartache and a smouldering District Thirteen in the wake. We are weak. We have to be punished. All that comes out is spew from the Capitol and how they do nothing wrong and we deserve all the perishing that becomes upon us. In a way I don't want to know.

On the other hand, I have every right to know why my father died.

The new found fear for the Capitol's power didn't stop at them blowing up Thirteen. Something terrible and completely out of line was born out of the ashes. A thing they named The Hunger Games. Taking children from their homes, making them kill each other until one is left, one victor out of twenty four people. Setting the districts on the other, competing, stirring up hatred between fellow rebel survivors. I guess that's the point, besides the Capitol just flaunting their power over us and a painful reminder that defying them has horrifying consequences.

No one I know personally has had their name plucked out of a large glass ball by Dillie Egbert. Just kids I've seen slumping around school. In all the past fifteen Games, we've had two victors. A man and a woman. I guess it's lucky, it shows we don't go down without a fight, but we're a lot more privileged than other districts. There's a term that gets thrown around called 'Career tributes'-and it goes for one, two, and four, which is where I live-which makes it seem like we train our youth to fight, like it's some honor. Well, yeah it's an honor to win, but who would want to take the risk? At least, we don't do that yet. I have seen some fathers practicing some stuff that might be considered "training" with some younger kids, but c'mon, there's no need to label us as "Careers". I know plenty of kids who are scared senseless about getting reaped. Me included.

Which is why I was wringing my hands numb in front of the little mirror in our bathroom. It was reaping day. My name was in that stupid glass bowl ten times. But there were thousands of slips. Some kids my age had their name in there eighteen times. I was lucky. Or so I wanted to make it seem to myself. I was almost beside myself when my mom opened the door shyly.

I wanted to say something to her. At least a greeting. But nothing came out. Not even a meager "Hi."

She sensed my distress of course, almost everyone was in some sort of distress on the reaping day. I knew that she had worry in her heart too. Her only child, the only thing left that somewhat tied her to my father. Had she have known what would come to Panem, our ruined country after the uprisings, she would've never risked having me. I was an accident anyway, but still. If she knew that there was a chance that her offspring would be put into a death match, I wouldn't be here today. I was born soon after the end of the war. Born a few months after my father had been killed in a Capitol raid that ended unsuccessfully. Born into a whole new world where I'd have to pay for my parent's and the other district's fatal mistake.

And here I am today, in my mother's embracing arms, at the start of the Sixteenth Annual Hunger Games.

She pulls me back a bit to look into my eyes, identical to her own, and smiles very softly, as to say "Don't worry. It'll be alright." I relax a little.

"We better get going. It's almost eleven." She says with her soft voice. I agree and we're out the door, and even though I've calmed a bit, I can't stop plucking at the buttons on my shirt.

Once we enter the town square I'm herded into a roped off section with all the other fifteen year olds. I don't really have any friends because I've always had this fear of anyone I love being taken away to the Capitol while I have to watch as they get killed. Stupid, sure. But I've gotten this far without friendship and I'm fine.

The clock on the Justice Building chimes eleven. Let the reaping begin, I think.

The mayor stands up from one of the four chairs that sit on the temporary stage set up in front of us. Dillie is waiting patiently on her spot for her turn to pick the two names from the large Reaping Balls. The remaining seats are housing our past victors, a sullen young man named Cloud and a falsely cheery girl named Yuffie. I know that she's only eighteen because she won the Fourteenth Games, and that was only two years ago. We've been told all about her at school. Cloud won the Eighth year, and he doesn't talk much and spends most of his time in the Victor's Village, alone in his house that, despite being the best residence here, has a cold demeanor. I feel sorry for that past tributes who had to deal with him.

The mayor's going on about how Panem was created and a whole lot of bull about the Dark Days and the Treaty of Treason. He does this every year, and I tune him out. The same Capitol written script every year. He finishes quickly enough and lists our past victors. Yuffie waves at the crowd and I know the cameras are zoomed in on her youthful face, still looking innocent, even after surviving a nightmare which she had a big part of shedding tribute blood. I can't help but think she's just hiding behind a mask. Cloud, of course, has his own constant mask on, looking gruff as ever with a nasty scowl on his face, which would be handsome if it wasn't marred by his anger.

Dillie is introduced and you can tell she's ready to get the ball running.

"Well hello, District Four! Happy Hunger Games!" She says in a squeaky little voice with that stupid Capitol accent. She has her hair done up in something called a "beehive" and it's an unwavering shade of iridescent purple. She has a pointed looking pantsuit the color of buttercups and her nails are styled into sharp little points with what looks like polka dots painted on. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why can't they wear normal clothing?

She gives a little speech about how it's an honor to be here, representing the great district that is number Four and I'm thinking to myself that she's full of crap when BAM! She's crossing over the stage to the Reaping Bowl, saying, "Ladies first!" and the crowd goes absolutely silent, and even I'm holding my breath, though I know my name's not coming out of there, and _the reaping has begun_.

She swirls her hand in the slips and plucks out a carefully folded one and walks back to the center. It's obvious she's adoring how all eyes are on her, all cameras are set to her face as her lips start moving and she's saying in a Capitol affected voice:

"Kairi Alamak."

There's a stir in the crowd and I hear a woman screaming "No, not my baby!". Automatically, I think it's a twelve year old, how unfortunate, but then there's a girl my age with a grim expression pushing past me and making her way to the stage. And the funny thing is, I don't recognize her at all. Not even a little. I guess that's good. I won't miss her.

Dillie claps her hand and takes the girl by her shoulder, her nails slightly digging in. Kairi doesn't wince, even though it must hurt. Tough for the cameras.

"Our female tribute!" She smiles and waits for the audience to clap. Nothing. She recovers with a cough and then strides over to the boy's bowl.

Now my heart starts pounding.

Her perfectly manicured hand slips past the lip slowly, achingly slow, and she seems to take her time picking which slip she likes best. Or maybe it was just my mind playing in slow motion. I could scream at her.

Then before I know it she's standing in front of the mic. She's unfolding the slip. She's clearing her throat. She pauses for dramatic effect and then reads it.

"Sora Nevermore."


	2. Welcome to the Capitol

**Okay, chapter two. I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written ever. And it only took me a few days. And, there's like no one reading this... Okay, besides the point. Characters are a little OOC, and there will be more. But I can't get everything right. So, enjoy this new installment! And review for me :3**

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I am no longer Sora Nevermore. I am a corpse. I am a dead man walking. I am the boy who people are relieved aren't them.

I am the new tribute for District Four.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I don't know who it is, but I'm thankful for it, because I might've just stood there for centuries if someone hadn't unfrozen me, brought me back to this day. The Reaping day. The day I say goodbye to my life.

"Well, come on my dear." Dillie says. I almost glare at her, but remember that the cameras are no doubt trained on my face and I really don't want to look like a jerk. Then I realize I don't care. So glare I do. Might as well build up some sort of character for the Capitol to know. I'd rather them have some guy that's not me than the person I really am.

My face hardens. I force my legs to move forward, one step at a time. I feel stiff. I want nothing more than to be anywhere but here. I'd rather be in the most pathetic district, living in some dirty, flimsy hut, but still alive and away from this woman and her cameras and the prying eyes of the Capitol.

Dillie Egbert grabs my forearm and tugs me up two steps, trying to make up for lost time. Her nails do in fact hurt as they dig in, but I'm either beyond caring or my body's having one of those detached experiences, because I don't react to it. The only thing my brain can register is that I'm being forced to shake hands with my district partner and I'm being pushed into the Justice Building and I'm set in a separate room and I'm all alone now.

I guess it's time for goodbyes. One hour in here, my last hour in my beautiful home. I wish I could spend it in the ocean. I think I'd feel a whole lot better. Saying goodbye would be a lot less depressing. Or, maybe I wouldn't be able to let go. I guess this is better. My last memories of my release would be happy instead of bittersweet.

I'm sitting on one of the plush couches for maybe two minutes before my mother walks into the room with her usual grace and silence. It takes less than five seconds for me to leap into her arms and bury my face in her long brown hair. The comforting scent of your mother is so refreshing and I'm not only relaxing but feeling my eyes prickle with tears. My body is as confused as my mind.

"Mom," I mumble and she shushes me gently because my voice is so shaky.

"Honey, be strong." She says. I know she's right; there are cameras surrounding the town square and train station, and they'll be focused on my reaction to the sudden turn of events.

She strokes my naturally tousled hair and my grip on her only tightens. I can't let her go. She's been everything to me. She's all I have. And I'm all she has. This will kill her as much as it does me. And then I remember that she needs protecting to.

"Mom," I repeat, only this time stronger. This is for her. "Mom, you'll have to get work. I know you're the best net-maker this town's got. Mr. Willis will hire you in a heartbeat. Go to him. It'll be enough to get by, but only barely. You've also got to go to the East docks and sell Dad's old fishing supplies. Everyone's always wanted their hands on those, and I know the Old Man will give you decent prices. It'll keep you afloat for a while since I can't be there to help any more. Promise me you'll keep going. Promise you won't give up." I'm practically begging her now, my hands on her shoulders and my eyes locked on hers.

"I promise." She says quietly. I can tell it's hard for her. It's not like getting a job for someone of her talent is difficult. Moving on will be the challenge. Watching the Games will kill her bit by bit.

"I love you, Mom." I whisper. I have to bite my lip to keep it from quavering.

"I love you too, sweetie."

We hug one more time, and then there's a Peacekeeper telling us our time's up, and that's the last I ever see of my poor, lovely, caring mother who's been through so much.

I can't help collapsing on the overly stuffed red couch that only reminds me of blood because of the color and how it's an almost slippery texture. It kind of reminds me of my tears, too. What awaits of my future. Too much pain and heartache.

I know I won't make it. It's not like I couldn't survive out there, I'm tough and have been around a knife hilt. I'm not weak. But I couldn't take the life of another person. My mom knows that too. I'm weak in the sense of being strong enough to kill my way to the top. Only one other victor has won without killing another, but they were from Eleven. They know about food and plants. I can fish, and that's it. I know a few healing plants. I can make nets. The odds of surviving are against my favor.

But I think I'd just have more drive to win if there was no sick prize at the end. If I could just go home and pretend it didn't happen.

I'm really not expecting what happens next. I thought the only person I would see in here would be my mom, but I'm wrong. A real surprise visit. I don't even know who this person is.

"Listen to me." She says in a raspy voice, one that's been worn out by sobs. I instantly recognize it. It's the woman who cried out during the Reaping. It's my enemy's mother. "You have to protect her. You have to protect my baby."

She's pleading with me, very urgent and a little unstable. Her eyes are puffy and red. I can't help think that she's a bit mad.

"I can't. I'm sorry." I whisper.

"You have to!" She shakes me and I grip her wrists to try and calm her down and keep her from snapping my neck.

"I have to think about myself. I can't worry about your daughter. I'm sorry." And it's true. I am sorry. But twenty-three people are going to die in the next couple of weeks. They've done so for years. I can't help it. I'm all I've got now, I'm my own focus.

"I'll make sure your mother eats. I'll make sure she won't starve." She pleads.

"Won't... starve?" It clicks. I know where I've seen her before. She's a fisherman's wife, they live about twenty miles down the shore from my home. I sold them one of my mother's nets once.

It's tempting. Fishermen eat well, getting for them as they satisfy the Capitol enough to get off their backs. My mother wouldn't go hungry if she was being watched over. But she's got enough pride to refuse help. I know she can make it on her own if she stays strong. And she wouldn't want me to have a burden like that. I have no other option but to say no.

"I can't."

Her reaction is immediate. She screams and lunges at me, nails ready to scratch my face. Her fingers just graze my cheek before a Peacekeeper yanks her back and drives the butt of his gun into her temple. She slumps over, unconscious. I stare open-mouthed. He starts dragging her out and I recover from the shock.

"Don't hurt her!" I call before the door slams shut. A death even before the Games start. That would be unbelievable.

I rub my cheek where she attacked me. My fingers come back slightly bloody, but it's not bad. Like a cat scratch.

The rest of the hour ticks by, and then I'm being escorted by Dillie to a car. It's very odd-looking in the District, bright and shiny silver against the sandy pavement and chipped paint of the stores. I've never ridden in a car before. I don't think anyone owns one here. At least no average citizen.

Kairi is sitting on the left, Dillie in the middle, and me sullenly on the right. My head rests against the cool glass of the window, and I'm thankful that I'm not sitting right next to my "partner".

"Oh my-what is that!?" Dillie shrieks. I don't have time to respond before she tilts my face up with an iron grip on my jaw, and I'll be lucky if there's no bruises there. "We can't have that. What were you thinking? Before the Games even start." She clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

I'm just glad she doesn't ask how it happened.

The train station is swarming with cameras and reporters screaming questions at us. I ignore most of it. Tune it out. Pretend I can't hear it and pretend like I'm walking up the steps alone.

Inside the compartment, it's absolutely stunning. It's the most luxurious place I've ever been in and if a simple tribute train is this plush, I wonder what the actual Capitol looks like. More thick carpets, polished gold and silver at every turn, bright colors and rich, sturdy wood. Pastel tinted glasses with tasty looking liquids and baked goods with sweet fillings on tables. There are windows showing the outside world, and everything is swimming past us. We must be going at least 200 miles per hour. Nothing has been half assed. We will be sitting in the lap of luxury, if only for a little while.

"I'm going to get someone to look at that cut." Dillie chirps in and clicks away in her high heels. She's gone before I can tell her to just let it go.

Kairi and I stand in awkward silence before I hesitantly sit down in an armchair. I quickly glance her way and our eyes meet for a second. My head snaps back and focuses on the low standing table, where there's a little flower arrangement placed on it. I don't really recognize them, but I don't pay much attention to pretty things. Pretty things die quickly.

Someone I don't know walks in through the compartment door with a little box in their hand. A first-aid kit. They come up in front of me and tell me to stand up. I don't like being ordered around, but I suck it up and do it anyway. They dab my cheek with a little strip of cloth to clean it, then smudge on some weird, slick glob of medicine. It smells kind of minty, which isn't all too unpleasant, but it feels uncomfortable and heavy.

"Don't touch it." They order and pack up their stuff. As they walk out the door, Yuffie is coming in. She smiles at them, gives a little flirty wave, and bounds up by us.

"Hello!"

I instantly don't like her. She's fake. Good thing Kairi will be the one to deal with her.

"Hello," said tribute murmurs. She's a bit shy, but I know the feeling too. Just a few hours ago we were safe. I'm a little conservative with my words too.

"So, you're our girl tribute. Well, you probably won't have too much trouble getting sponsors." She walks over to her and examines her face a bit closer. "With a bit of work you'll be pretty enough."

Her tone is light and cheery, but the words are kind of harsh.

"Of course, it's not just your looks. You have to be able to survive." She finishes. With that, she pats the girl on the head and leaves the compartment.

"I can't stand her." Kairi says with a heavy exhale of breath. Without thinking a give a little laugh and agree. Then I remember I shouldn't be talking to her.

Kairi doesn't try to start-up another conversation, sensing my reservation. I'm thankful for that. And it's not like I'd want to be making friends, especially now. I've never needed friends, I've never had friends, I've never wanted friends. I guess it's paid off, since I'm about to die at the age of fifteen.

Later that night, after a wonderfully tasty dinner-the best I've ever had in my whole life- we're(minus Cloud) forced to sit and watch the recap of the Reaping. Districts One through Twelve. Only a few people stand out to me. An extremely tall red-head from One with a nasty smile, a giant with slicked back, gingery hair from Two, and a muscular young man with silver hair from Seven. A lot of the others almost seem like me in stature, and sadly, there's a lot of petite young girls who probably have no chance of protecting themselves. Thankfully there are no twelve-year olds.

I go to bed at nine, because the day's just been so weary, and my eyes can barely stay open. My room is fairly big and the bed is the best thing I've ever laid down on. I just strip off my clothes and sleep in my underwear. I don't dream that night.

Since our District's Reaping was early enough in the morning, and we're not the farthest away from the Capitol, we arrive very early the next morning. Dillie raps on my room and tells me to get ready quickly because we'll be in the Capitol soon. I stumble out of bed and slink into the bathroom. There's a shower in there with warm, running water. It's got a panel in it with a million buttons, to regulate water temperature and different soaps, and anything you can imagine. I press a few and am welcomed with sweetly scented shampoo and lukewarm water. It's good enough, and I don't want to risk blinding or burning myself.

When I step out, mats blow dry me. Well, they've just thought of everything. There's even a set of clothes out for me. I get dressed quickly and step out into the hall. Instantly, Dillie is pushing me into the dining cart and I have to shovel some food into my mouth because we're almost at the station. Kairi is sitting there with a pink dress on, looking lovely. Yuffie was right, no matter how I hate it. She won't have too much trouble with sponsors, based on looks. I barely get time to glance at the mirror before Dillie's again pushing me to the exit. The doors slide open, and despite the early hour, we're greeted by thousands of Capitol citizens, screaming and cheering. It's sickening. And all of them look ridiculous.

We're quickly herded into a car and start driving straight to the Remake Center, where we will be preened and powdered into a fit enough state to be paraded in front of the Capitol with silly little costumes. Cloud has still yet to make an appearance, but no doubt he's boarded another car to go straight to the Training Center, up to the fourth floor where we will be staying, and locking himself in his room. But who cares. Who needs him. I don't. Not now at least.

My prep team is a trio of bubbly, airheaded, Capitol obsessed nutbags. They don't seem mean, which is a plus, but looks and material items are number one on their list of priorities. Thankfully, since I'm a guy, I don't need as much prepping as the female majority, but my arms and torso are still waxed, and my eyebrows are plucked. Also, I'm forced to drink this really bitter stuff, which they say will keep me from growing any facial hair, and I have to soak in a bath full of oils and have my skin scrubbed clean of any excess cells. I'm patted dry, and have only a thin robe to wear while I wait for my stylist.

I'm running my fingers through my hair, which feels like silk, despite all the sun damage, when he comes walking through the door. Unlike most people from the Capitol, he's relatively simple looking. I mean, he still looks really weird, but there's no extreme makeup or surgical changes or dyed skin. He's got bleached white hair and yellow contact lenses. His hair is kinda funny looking, slicked back at the top to a weird point, the sides framing his face and the rest layered down to his shoulders in little spikes. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a red X on it, and big, khaki pants with a thick belt.

"Hello, my name is Terra." He says with a calm voice. But still with the same Capitol accent.

"Hello." I say flatly. "I'm Sora."

Or what's left of him. I don't think I can recognize the cheerful, happy guy behind this person I've crumbled to. My blue eyes changed from ocean to ice.

Terra makes a noise in the back of his throat and cuts to the chace.

"As you know, what you wear during the opening ceremonies will reflect your District's principal industry."

I roll my eyes. Great, either I'll be dressed up as a fish, or as a fisherman.

"So Aqua and I have decided to tell a little story with our designs. 'The Fisherman and the Mermaid'."

Well, it's not quite "fishing", but I guess it's effective. Eye catching at least. And it actually kind of means something to our District. Every child grows up hearing that story, even though these stylists have no idea that they're kind of plagiarizing an old tale. I can't remember it much, since my mother told it to me years, and it was never my favorite because it was so sad. But no doubt Kairi remembers it, and it'll have the same effect on her as it does on me. It's a part of home that the Capitol has twisted up and spat back at our face.

The funny thing is, though, both the characters in "The Fisherman and the Mermaid" die as well.

Terra is waiting for my reaction, expecting me to praise him or something.

"Wonderful. Great. It's going to be a splash." I say.

The next few hours are spent with costuming me up and putting some makeup on me. It's weird, eyeliner and all that stuff, but thankfully it's minimal, just to highlight my features and whatnot. I've got a plain white, puffy shirt, sleek black pants, and a fishing pole in my hand. It's simple, and the fishermen in our district would never wear with for their job, but it's for the Capitol. I'm suppose to look attractive, but I've never been considered "hot" or "sexy" before. Cute at the most. In this get-up, I probably look silly. It's not until I'm about to be lead to the stables under the Remake Center when I can get a look at myself. Surprisingly, I don't look half bad. Simple, but handsome. At least I look like myself.

When I arrive at my chariot, Kairi is already there. She's looking stunning with the mermaid costume. Like she's really a mystical creature from the ocean. Pearls around her neck, scaly purple tail that kind of reminds me of Dillie's wig, and jewels on her fingers and arms. But there's something else. A tightly woven net wrapped around her, encasing her. Like she's trapped. By my net.

"Oh, uh, interesting." I say hesitantly. It's like the story. The fisherman catches the mermaid, spears her with his trident on accident, and then kills himself. That's not it, of course, but I can't remember the details. All I know is that it's a tragic love story, and that's the fatal end.

She gives me a knowing, sad smile. She's thinking of the story too. And it's really unfair, what they're doing to us.

"Well get up there. It's starting!" Dillie orders and shoves me forward. Jeez, does she do a lot of shoving.

I scramble up the steps of the sea-foam green chariot just in time; the double doors are opening and the ceremonies are starting. I see they've set up a seat for Kairi, since standing must be difficult, but she's propped up enough so she's visible. She looks really nervous. I can't stand it.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry." I smile at her. Here I go, Mr. Nice Guy. Bad choice. But it seems to calm her down and she smiles back.

The horses start moving, and then we're being presented to Panem. The crowd's going wild with excitement. The Hunger Games are on their way. The Tributes are already vying for their life.

I can tell we've made a good impression, with a steady amount of time on-screen and lots of fingers pointed at us. We're not the most stand outish, but we're up there. But there's one team that's got a big fuss over it. District Seven. The girl isn't really note worthy, but the boy most definitely has the woman swooning. It's the silver-haired guy that I took notice of during the Reaping. And he is really muscular. But even if he was weak and couldn't survive without the goods from the Cornucopia, he'd have a hard time not getting sponsors. The Hunger Games aren't a beauty contests, but attractive tributes get a lot of love. He's definitely one to look out for.

Soon enough we're in a loop at the City Circle, stopping right in front of President Xemnas's mansion. He gives a greeting to the country and thanks the tributes for being here. Like we have a choice. It quick and unnecessary, the opening ceremonies, but the purpose is really just to flaunt us around. We loop around once more and disappear into the Training Center. Finally. I just want this day to end.

Each District has their own floor. We have Four, obviously. I quickly make my way to an elevator, and before I can go up on my own, that boy from Seven enters it.

"Hey," he says casually.

"Hey," I say back, but my voice is timid, which I hate. He kind of smirks, but not in the mean way. More amused.

"Nice costume."

"Same to you." I respond and press Four on the pad, then Seven for him. He gives me a look, slightly surprised, but I pretend to ignore it. Like anyone could forget anything about him. Well, actually, I can't even remember his name. Wow.

Thankfully these elevators move extremely fast, and it doesn't take long till we're at my floor. The crystal door slide open and I step out with a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"See you around," He says and gives a little salute/wave. The door close once more.

What a jerk, I think. Acting all friendly. He's probably fantasizing about how he'll kill me.

This floor is even better than the train. How is that possible? Well, I guess we're the highlight of the year, so we're treated like royalty, but just a little bit. I should try to enjoy it. But I can't. I'd trade one thousands years here for the luxury of dying in my District.

I'm about to retire for the night, when the elevator door opens. It's not Dillie, or Kairi, or Yuffie. It's Cloud. And he looks exhausted.

He looks at me, slightly disgusted at my costume, but not really by me. He murmurs something, and pushes past me to his quarters. Whatever, he's just a grumpy guy.

I'm not really hungry, so I head straight to what I assume is my room. I strip off the stupid garments, and slide under the sheets. My eyes are heavy and my body is ready to shut down for the night. But my mind just keeps buzzing. I'm laying there for hours before my last thoughts pass through my head, and I'm thankfully falling into oblivion.


	3. The Training Center

**Next time I swear it won't be this long of a wait. I honestly had no idea it's been this long. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to Arl313. Your review made me very happy, and kick started me into finishing this chapter.**

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You know the moment when you're not quite awake, but you're not asleep, and everything feels amazing for a second; like you're floating in an endless white oblivion? Well, I wish I would've just been suspended in that moment forever, but then the sad reality sunk in, and I wasn't in my bed in District Four. I was opening my eyes and looking at the cold metal ceiling of my temporary room in the Capitol, my skin being rubbed against an almost unbelievably silky sheet-completely unheard of from where I come from. The half-awake state had been completely wiped away, and in its place was the sinking realization that I was going to die very soon, and there was almost nothing I could do to save myself. Today was the first training day, and I guess I could learn a few new tricks, but really. What chance did I have against someone from District Seven who could hit a target with an axe, or that giant from Two whose strength was about four times of mine? Or even that red-head with the dangerous glint in his eye, like he wouldn't mind killing as many people as it took to preserve his life. That's something I could never do.

But as long as I still had control over myself...

Before my thoughts grow to an even darker shade, I hear a loud knock on my door.

"Wakey wakey! Hurry up and get out of bed!" Dillie calls through the door and I just huff.

"Up, up, up!" She clicks on the door with her nails and then taps away in those ridiculous heels of hers.

Well, there isn't anything much to do besides get out of bed. Just this once I'd do what she told me, but I'll take my sweet time. A long shower. Sifting through each drawer to see what I'd like to wear. That would kill enough minutes.

I spend another half hour in my room, with several interruptions by Dillie knocking on the door, but I simply ignored them and moved even slower. After finally showering and dressing, I step out of my room and walk into the living room. Yuffie and Dillie are sitting on the plush couches, chatting about something that I can't make out.

"Oh there you are! Finally!" Dillie exclaims and shoots straight up. "Training starts in ten minutes, so you better eat something really quick."

She almost shoves me into the dining room, but I hop out of the way and leave on my own, satisfied that I had escaped her violent habit. Kairi is sitting at the table alone, seemingly transfixed with the stack of cooling biscuits. When I sit down, her head jerks up in surprise, and then she quickly goes to sip her juice.

"Lost in thought?" I ask and scoop up some fresh fruit.

She nods and sighs.

"I'm nervous about the training today. I can't do anything, and some of those guys are pretty intimidating." I say, trying to provoke a response from her. She only seems to wilt more, because if I don't have any hope, how could a girl like her have a chance at surviving?

Well, that didn't help.

I give up any attempt at conversation, and settle with eating my meager breakfast before Dillie comes to take us away, which doesn't take long.

"Come, come you two. We'll be late!" She pulls me away from my bowl and tugs at Kairi's shirt to get her to stand.

The trip to the Training Center is silent. It's stationed far below the surface of the earth, and the elevator seems to grow smaller and smaller, making me more anxious by the seconds that tick by achingly slow. When we finally arrive, Dillie gives us a warning glance, as if to say 'be on your best behaviour', and pats our heads for an awkward goodbye.

The Training Center is a huge gym with all sorts of sick instruments of murder and obstacle courses that look varying in difficulty. There are about six groups already here, all in a taut circle with their district numbers on their backs. Someone comes over to pin the number 4 on mine and Kairi's shirts, and we're gently directed over there. That guy from Seven is standing next to his partner a few people to the left of me, and the freakishly tall red-head from One is right across from me. He's got a really frightening gleam in his acid green eyes, and a deadly smirk that probably never leaves his face. And he's staring straight at me.

I quickly divert my gaze to the man who's standing in the middle of our now complete circle. He introduces himself as Xaldin, and I can't help staring at his crazy dreadlocks and disturbingly big sideburns. He says he's the head trainer, which I barely catch, and then goes on to explain the dynamics here. We have free range at the stations, each with an expert to teach us. We can't fight with the other tributes, but there will be assistants for us to train with. The stations vary from hitting targets with knives, to making fires, to creating shelter, to tying knots. Anything we could need in these deadly games.

I'm looking around as he's reading off the list of things we can look into, and I decide that I'll start with edible plants, then go to shelter, to camouflage, and then make my way over to the-

"Hey, you're Sora right?"

"What?" I look up and see the boy from Seven, his hands casually hanging in his pockets.

"Your name: Sora. Right? I'm Riku." He pulls one of his hands out and offers it for me to shake. I take a second to decide if I should blow him off, but just shrug it off and return the gesture. He gives it a firm shake and then slips his back into his pocket.

"Nice to meet you." I say sarcastically. If he picks up the tone, he doesn't show it. On the contrary, he glances around then says, "Where are you starting at?"

"Edible plants," I mumble. "A guy like you would probably start-"

"There too, yeah. I've had years to practice with an axe. I need to know how to survive, not kill." He then has the nerve to look right into my eyes and finish with, "I've got that down already."

I can't say anything to that. All I do is snap my mouth shut and start walking to the station. The nerve of some people. That was practically a death threat. But what can I expect? We're in the Hunger Games. I guess I can't be appalled. We're all thinking the same things.

I spend the rest of our time here learning how to survive in various environments. What to eat, what I can use to my advantage, how to camouflage myself, how to start a fire, how to heal certain ailments with natural resources. Riku only bothered me at the edible plants station, then went on to his own agenda, thankfully. For the next two days, I pretty much master snares and knots and all sorts of practically useless skills in a killing game. Back in the room for our District, there's been an awkward and fairly uncomfortable air. Cloud never comes out of his room, and Yuffie's trying way too hard to cover up her condescending words to Kairi. Our mentors are no help to us, and if I were to choose one person I'd kill in these Games, it would be Dillie.

But it isn't until our last training day, before I have to present some sort of thing I'm good at, that every struggle I've put up with has been made up for. When I actually find my hidden talent.

The weapon stations are the only thing I haven't touched. I've dabbled with the obstacle courses and learned how to string up a human off a tree by their ankles, but haven't learned how to stick a knife in someone's chest. Or in this case, a target. I first tentatively pick up a small throwing knife. It's yellow and blue, with three-pointed prongs at the hilt and a very deadly looking blade. The trainer comes up behind me and pats my shoulder.

"Can ya hit a target with that one there?" He turns me around to the small range setup. There are four human ones and two plain square ones with red circles on them.

"I guess we'll see."

I suck in a breath and throw it. It barely sinks itself into the corner of the target.

"Try it again?" He asks, but I shake my head.

"I'm not feeling it." I say and leave. Knives are definitely not my weapon, but the blond from One certainly is talented with them. She can hit a target, dead center, from over fifty feet away.

I move over to the spears. The head trainer, Xaldin, is lingering around there. I pick up a long purple one. The end of it literally strikes fear into my heart. It's at a slant, but the end of it isn't attached to the body, it's set apart so when you rip it out of the victim, blood isn't the only thing you'll get. I shiver and set it down and leave without looking back. There are a whole bunch of other weapons: scythes, humongous swords that I'd never be able to pick up(but the giant from Two can without a struggle), and these weird circular things with spikes on them that the sadistic redhead from One, who I've discovered is named Axel, loves to mess with. I'm really about to give up, but then I see a now empty station, and for some reason, I feel like I have to give it a chance.

I walk over to it, and there's an older looking man with dark skin and black hair who's leaning on a very odd-looking crutch.

"What's your name?" He asks after I make my way up. It's sort of odd, because no other trainer has taken interest with who I am.

"Sora."

He sort of smiles a little, which is also odd, because he's from the Capitol and I'm just a kid from District Four who's dying for his entertainment.

"I'm Eraqus. This is the Keyblade station."

"Keyblade." I repeat. Even though I've never heard of that before, it just seems right. Fitting.

"See any you like?" He asks and takes a step back. I can see three rows of them on the wall, all looking magnificent. Before I get greedy, I look back at him and notice that the "crutch" he had been holding was actually one of those Keyblades. He straightens up and sets it down on the low table next to him. I take a good look at it. It's nice, with silver and smoky gray metal, but it's not for me. I first pick up a dark one with what looks like the head of a dragon on it, but it's not the right one either. There are so many to pick from, but each one I touch isn't right. It's not till I've already tried on six that I choose one that just feels... It feels like magic. It's simple, really. The simplest one there, but it feels right in my hands. Perfect weight. Perfect grip to it. I feel, for the first time since I've been here, warm and good.

"I think I like this one." I tell him. It's an understatement, but I won't say "This is my soul mate, I think I've found the love of my life" out loud.

"The Kingdom Key." He says. "A classic, not that commonly used today. But still a good one."

_You're damn right_, I think.

"Need a sparring buddy?" He asks. I nod, and he calls over a young man. Before he lets me go to the open area set up, he mumbles in my ear, "Don't forget to make a good show for your_ private session_," and discreetly points up to the Gamemakers. They've been sifting around, eating and drinking their fill, for the past three days. Just watching us, making comments to themselves, getting fatter and fatter. And after lunch, I have to wait for six people to have their turn with them, then I'm sent out there and have to do something amazing, all for just a score. Just a number, but I'm already so nervous. Back home I wouldn't ever have to deal with anything as silly as being scored on my talents.

Oh, great, now I'm missing home.

"Thanks," I mouth back to him, and go over by the assistant.

The assistant is about my build, which is good, since we'll be evenly matched physically, but he's probably had more practice that I have. We just stand in front of each other for a few seconds(because I have no idea what I'm doing) but then he jumps back a step, swings around to the back of me, and takes a shot. But I even surprise myself, and counter it in one fluid motion.

"Very good," Eraqus says.

The assistant lunges at me, but I push back with both hands on the Keyblade, and he stumbles back a few feet. Before he manages to get his composure, I jump beside him and hit his side. He falls down to the mat, not injured, just stunned. This isn't the Games. This is just practice.

Eraqus walks over to me and claps his hand on my shoulder.

"You better stop." He says.

"Why?" I feel amazing. I feel invincible.

"You're getting too much unwanted attention." He whispers and I look around. He's right. There are a few tributes who have stopped what they were doing to watch me.

"Alright then." I say and hold out my hand for the guy on the ground. He looks confused, but takes it anyway, and I pull him up. He shakes my hand and nods his head to Eraqus before walking off, gently rubbing his side.

"You're good kid, but you've got to save it for the Gamemakers. Give them something they haven't seen from you. Do you want an assistant in there?"

"I-in where?" I ask and turn back around to look at him.

"For your private session. Do you want someone to spar with?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." I'm getting more nervous. What if I'm not good enough? What if the other person makes a fool out of me? Eraqus wouldn't do that, would he? Put a lion in the den with me? But who am I kidding? I don't even know him. He could be trying to sabotage me.

"They don't let just anyone in there, so watch out." He gives me a half-smile and pats my shoulder once more. I've been dismissed.

Great. Now I've done it. I have to fight against someone who's way better than me in front of the people who are holding my life in their hands. I'm dead.

"Lunchtime!" Xaldin calls from over by the spears. My heart starts hammering. After this, we have to give the performance of our lives.

Everyone is pushed off to the dining room, while they clear out the middle of the Training Center and the Gamemakers get ready to be entertained.

I can barely eat anything. I manage a bowl of stew, which is delicious, but I can't force down anything more. Kairi looks even more nervous than I am. In fact, half of the people here do, except the couple from One and a few of the other big tributes.

_C'mon Sora, pull it together._

After ten minutes, they start calling people in. First Axel. Fifteen minutes pass. Then "Larxene". Fifteen minutes. It goes like this until it's my turn. I could throw up.

I straighten my clothes a bit, pat down my hair(which just pops back up), and make sure my number's still on my back. Everything's good in that department.

My name's called again, so I stand up, pull myself together, and walk into the Training Center. The Gamemakers are set up over it, so they can see everything. A few of them look bored, but most are intently staring at me. Maybe they saw me at the Keyblade station?

I swallow and say, "Sora Nevermore. District Four." A few of them nod, and I turn around to go to the Keyblades. I didn't notice before, but Eraqus is standing over there.

"Supervising?" I ask and pick up the Kingdom Key. It still feels great in my hands and the nervousness goes away a little.

"No." He picks up his Keyblade. "I'm your sparring partner."

* * *

**The kid that was the sparring partner earlier is not Roxas, Ven, or Vanitus. Just in case you were wondering. Just some Capitol citizen. Favorite, Follow, Review my loves!**


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